The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels

by Travis Luedke

  SMALL, ROUGH STONES flung into the air as Nick pulled away in his black Vauxhall Corsa. Parked on the gravel area was a silver Peugeot 206; it hadn’t been there when they’d arrived, so it must have belonged to Ryan.

  Nick drove fast over the private road, then towards Chanton. Juliet, Tom, and Tommy were silent, the tension in the car palpable. Nick was angry at Tommy for always affronting him; he had to repeatedly remind himself to calm down, drive safely.

  The mixture of sadness and anger, guilt and fear, and shock and grief was cruel. Juliet can’t stand to look at me. He glanced sideways at her, but she stared out of the window into the dark.

  He realised that he ached to walk to the cliff edge and see where Aldrich had pushed his mum’s car over with her body inside. It would be like visiting her grave. But now it was too late. He could never return to Grendel Manor.

  The silence was thick. As he drove, the shadowy, wiry trees of the roadside taunted him. He finally knew what had happened to his mum, but was anything any easier now? Was he any happier?

  Chanton came into view. ‘Stop here,’ Juliet said in a cold voice.

  The town was still a long walk away from where they were. ‘I can drive you closer,’ Nick said sheepishly.

  ‘I said stop here.’

  He pulled over, and Juliet opened the door and stepped out. She arched and looked inside the car, not quite at Nick, but distantly past him. ‘Delete my number. If anything ever leads back to me, I am placing everything on you three. I never want to see you again.’ Her voice started out solid, but Nick thought he detected a crack towards the end.

  With a slam of the door, she walked away.

  ‘Yuh definitely ain’t gettin’ any now,’ said Tommy.

  Nick swung his head around. ‘You can walk back to Amiton if you carry on,’ he spat out.

  ‘Urgh. Chill out.’ Tommy puffed out his chest, looking away angrily.

  Nick started the car back up and drove towards Amiton. His eyes welled a little at the thought of Juliet’s strict words. Did she mean it? He looked at the moon, hazily visible through island clouds. For some reason, gazing up at the moon gave him a sense of hope.

  Maybe things weren’t so bad? He barely knew Juliet anyway. Aldrich was dead. And they were off the hook.

  When he pulled into the drive of his dad’s house, he turned to face his brothers in the back. ‘Please don’t tell Dad anything yet,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m not ordering you around, so don’t be annoyed, Tommy, but we have to be delicate about this. Dad needs to know so he can finally move on. He deserves to know. But I think we should all tell him together, okay?’

  Tom nodded, and then Tommy did too.

  Nick half smiled. ‘Thank you. I’ll come over in a couple of days and we’ll talk to him. We all need time to clear our heads first.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Tommy grumbled, ‘and I’m starvin’.’ He had a glazed and evasive look in his eyes that made Nick worry, but then, he had just killed a man.

  The mention of food made Nick’s stomach stir. He grimaced, realising he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and now it was evening. ‘Me too. Oh yeah, Tommy, your arm … Hide that scab from Dad. And your jacket; the sleeve is torn off.’

  Tommy fidgeted, taking the jacket off completely, then bundled it up. ‘I’ll chuck it out, and I dunno … tell him I cut myself at college.’ He laughed a bit dopily, a bit distantly. ‘I liked this jacket.’ He manoeuvred the passenger seat and hunkered out of the car. As Nick watched him walk towards the front door, he wondered if he’d ever look at Tommy in the same way again. At least he didn’t murder an innocent … If that were the case, Nick would want nothing to do with him.

  With his twin gone, Tom said, ‘Can I come over your house later, Nick? I still need to talk to you. After everything today, I just want to get it off my chest.’

  Nick had almost forgotten about Tom’s personal matter. ‘Yeah, that’s fine. I’m going to eat and shower first. Do you want me to pick you up?’

  ‘No, I’ll drive over. Text me when you’re ready. I like to drive. It helps me think.’

  Nick nodded. ‘Tom …’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Make sure Tommy’s alright, won’t you? I was pretty hard on him, and even though what he did was wrong, it might have been the only way out for us.’

  Tom shrugged in an understanding manner. ‘Okay.’ He got out.

  Although the drive back had been awkwardly quiet, it really seemed silent now.

  Nick headed home and arrived within a couple of minutes. The trees shrouding the front garden reminded him of Grendel Manor’s woodland. He hurried inside his bungalow. The first thing he did was strip off his clothes and put them in the washing machine. They were filthy, stained with mud and grass and blood.

  When he caught his reflection in the mirror, he gasped at the bruising that covered his naked body. The longer he stared at it, the more it hurt. He tried to cheer himself by laughing about it. I look like a rainbow. There was a throb in his head where the branch had rebounded.

  He showered. The shower was a place of thought, but he didn’t wish to think just yet. Lathering every inch of his body, he hummed a random tune to distract his mind until he rinsed down, stepped out, and dried himself. He tried to ignore the sheer agony of the bruises.

  After finding clean clothes to lounge around in, he pecked at a bag of crisps while microwaving a meal. Once his stomach felt bloatedly sick from eating too fast, he plodded to the snug and flumped down onto a beanbag chair. He looked up at the discoloured ceiling, then let his eyelids come together.

  He awoke an hour later.

  The nap had refreshed him, so now really was the time to think. The tears came. Mum … He grieved for twenty minutes straight, staring at an imaginary pit of darkness where hope didn’t and couldn’t exist. On the edge, he could have easily slipped in. No, not yet. He’d been there before. Depression. He knew that forlorn place; it had a paradoxical comfort to it, the safety in hiding away from life, not being able to face the day, succeeding in not failing by not even trying. Or was it failing to fail, failing to try, or … ?

  He shouldn’t want that relationship with depression again, not after his steady climb out of it. No, it’s too easy to be depressed. But he stayed close to the pit for now. After all, they had been long-time huggers.

  I never want to see you again, came Juliet’s cold voice. Until he’d met her, he hadn’t realised how much he wanted a nice woman in his life. He’d avoided serious relationships for ages, and now that he wanted one, he couldn’t have it with the woman he desired.

  He suddenly got up marched about the house, frantically, burning off whatever chemicals coursed through him. The glistening portal danced in front of his mind’s eye. What was that thing? It had recognised him, had called him ‘Oracle.’ Am I AN oracle or THE Oracle? He became excited, but soon began to worry, stepping closer to the pit. Could he be in danger because he’d been recognised for what he was? Worry did its usual thing and summoned more material to torment him with. The portal may have saved the abducted children from being immolated, but where were they now? Were they really better off on that side?

  Pacing, Nick imagined what could be in the Otherworld: magic, fantastical landscapes, deities, mythical creatures. Or maybe he was getting carried away again. Maybe it was another pit of hopelessness. But if there were other beings on that side, then what use did they have for human children? The portal’s gone now. There’s no point thinking about it. Even so, he made a spur-of-the-moment promise to himself: If he ever found a way to the Otherworld, he would try to discover the fate of the children who had vanished across the years.

  With a return to the beanbag chair, he thought, What if Aldrich really had been immortal? Nick almost wished the man was still alive, just to talk to him about his ability and all the things he’d seen in his long existence. Then his heart twanged, reminding him of his mother. I’m glad Aldrich’s dead. He can’t ruin any more lives.

  At least on Thursday,
Caroline could help him understand these thoughts … but no … she couldn’t. How could he tell her about these things? He huffed, giving up on ruminating and coming to a conclusion: More mysteries had been opened up than solved, but that was life; he couldn’t find closure for everything.

  All this time he’d been trying to force peace upon himself. Most of the self-help and spiritual programmes he’d practised had taught acceptance and being non-judgemental, but it had never truly sunk in.

  In his reflective mood, he remembered a time he’d sat on a pebbled beach to the south of Lansin Island. Cross-legged, he held his palm out, facing it upwards, and placed a perfectly spherical pebble in the centre of it. He wobbled his hand side to side, bouncing the pebble around, and observed the way he could feel its evenly distributed weight. There was a kind of symmetry to it all: The little stone rolled and jumped in his moving hand, but always returned to the centre in the end. And even when he fiercely shook his hand, he could sense if he’d gone too far and if the pebble would fall away or not. Maybe land in the pit of darkness.

  Right now, he saw himself as that little stone, and his life as the palm. Before the vision of Juliet falling to her death, he’d worked hard to find balance. He’d been sure the right mixture of self-help exercises and a degree of ‘enlightenment’ would keep him in that centre. But then came the premonition, and his life shook more wildly, in danger of going over the edge. Then finding out there was an Otherworld, discovering his mum was stabbed to death, falling for Juliet so suddenly, coming close to murder … The pebble hopped around like mad.

  But for this moment, he managed to bring himself back to the middle of the palm. He recalled something Juliet had said to him on the way to Grendel Manor: It was always better to know the truth, so you could learn from it and grow from it.

  Confidently, he took a mental leap away from the pit. For a blissful moment, he experienced a deep acceptance of the situation. No giddy excitement, no worries for the future, no doubts about his ability, but instead, a solid and humble trust in life.

  He inhaled deeply, texted Tom, and then waited.

  When low patters came from the front door, he moved to answer it. He discovered Tom on the porch, gazing up at the massive trees in the dark. ‘If I get bird crap on my car, I won’t be happy.’

  Nick laughed. ‘I can’t make any promises, I’m afraid.’

  Tom came inside and Nick closed the door behind him. They walked to the kitchen, and it was obvious Tom was looking at the depressing state of the room, the cracks in the walls, the lack of décor. ‘I could help you do this house up. If you wanted.’

  Nick huffed light-heartedly. ‘Thanks. That would be nice if I had the money.’

  ‘Can’t Mora take you on full time?’

  ‘She’s already employed more people than she needs. I wouldn’t want to ask.’

  ‘Hmm … Have you looked anywhere else for a job?’

  ‘No. I like my job. It’s just the pay that’s the problem.’ He frowned. ‘Never mind, though.’ Dismissively, he waved a hand. ‘I have your DVD still; I’ll go get it.’ He ran to the snug, collected Big Fish, then returned and handed it to Tom.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘So,’ Nick began cautiously, ‘are you happy to talk in here? Oh, and do you want to talk about everything that happened today?’

  ‘Yeah, here’s fine. But I need to get this off my chest, so let’s talk about today’s crazy events afterwards.’ Tom sat down at the small kitchen table. It wobbled as he tried to rest his elbows on it.

  After running himself a glass of water, Nick offered his brother a drink. Tom politely said no. Nick joined him at the table, sipping and waiting.

  ‘I’ve been dating Michael for a few months now,’ said Tom without preamble.

  Nick choked on the liquid in his throat. Through raspy coughs, he asked, ‘Michael Welding, my colleague at Creaky Crystals?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Tom avoided eye contact, looking down at the table.

  It was a shock—not a bad one, but unexpected. Nick definitely didn’t have the art of being non-judgemental, seeing as he’d stereotyped Michael as a typical pretty boy, and in turn a heterosexual. Also, Tom had only recently broken away from mimicking his twin, so Nick had mostly overlooked that he was his own person now, and evidently interested in different things from Tommy.

  Tom looked up slowly, his eyes reddening. ‘You’re not freaked out, are you?’

  ‘No. Not in the slightest.’ Nick shook his head emphatically. ‘But I am shocked that Michael’s gay!’ He laughed.

  Tom noticeably relaxed, and snorted in agreement. ‘I think he was surprised at himself too. We haven’t told anyone else.’

  ‘Does he know you’re telling me? I don’t want it to be awkward at work now.’

  ‘Yeah. I let him know. He said you’re nice to him at work and he hopes you’re cool with it.’

  ‘I might shun him now. Make him feel awkward.’

  Tom cracked up with laughter, and then, so did Nick. ‘No! Don’t do that!’

  When they both stopped laughing, a subtle quiet grew upon them. Nick asked, ‘Are you planning on telling Dad and Tommy?’ He imagined Tommy’s reaction, and it wasn’t pleasant. Tommy didn’t seem the type to understand, but then, Nick had already made a good few false presumptions.

  ‘Errm, I don’t think Tommy’s going to be cool about it. We shared a bedroom for years and used to talk about women together and stuff. He’ll be weirded out, I think.’

  ‘Hmmm.’

  ‘And Dad never asks us about our relationships at all. You know him; he doesn’t talk about sex or anything like that. Telling him would be awkward.’ He slanted his mouth into a fed-up smile.

  ‘You’ll have to tell them at some point, though. If you and Michael are serious, they are going to find out eventually. It’s better they hear it from you. I’m not saying this to put pressure on you, but if you don’t tell them, then I’ll have to lie to them about it too ... if they get suspicious.’

  Tom looked a bit indignant at his older brother’s analysis, but then he sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that.’ He paused, looked around. ‘I’ll tell them soon.’

  ‘If they are weird about it, you can always move in here for a while,’ Nick suggested without much thought. ‘I hardly use the living room, so it’s spare.’

  A fleeting look on Tom’s face worried Nick, a look of intrigue, like he had quickly calculated something. Nick was already regretting his passing offer; he could barely afford to support himself in this house.

  ‘Thanks, Nick. I’ll keep it in mind.’ Tom stood up and ran a glass of water. Nick watched the way he did it as if it was his home. You’ve not moved in yet! his mind joked, with partial bitterness. Then he made an effort to stop worrying and feel good instead. He smiled, pleased to know Tom trusted him with such a secret. This was certainly a new level of friendship between them.

  Tom sat down again and gulped his drink in one go.

  Nick asked, ‘How do you feel about the whole Mum thing?’

  ‘It’s going to take me a while to stop thinking about how she died. But I don’t know. She was already out of our lives. I’d given up hope years ago. I don’t feel any grief, only anger. The thing I can’t get my head around is what Aldrich could do with his eyes.’

  I could tell Tom about the visions, Nick considered, but decided against it. As desperate as he was to tell someone, he didn’t want to burden his family. It was mostly annoying that the one person he’d shared his secret with wasn’t going to be around now. ‘Yeah, I don’t understand it either,’ he said wearily.

  ‘Maybe hypnotism? Psychology or science might be able to explain it somehow.’ Tom shrugged and left it at that.

  ‘Do you think Tommy’s going to be alright?’

  After compressing his lips, Tom said, ‘I don’t know. He killed a man. I’ll keep an eye on him … but I just don’t know …’

  ‘Well, he didn’t seem that guilt-ridden earlier.’
r />   Tom looked at his older brother as if he was being too harsh. ‘But, Nick … he’s Tommy. He’s not going to let himself look vulnerable in front of us.’

  I suppose. ‘But did he do it on purpose? You were there, weren’t you?’

  Tom sighed. ‘That’s the thing. I don’t actually know. After Tommy took off the blindfold, Aldrich told us how … how he had killed Mum. Then I felt him inside my head again. It was horrible. I had to close my eyes and shake my head to try to push him away.’ He made these movements now, as if re-enacting the moment. ‘Then, when I opened my eyes, he was gone. I think he must have forced me or Tommy to untie him. And then you and Juliet returned, which was when Aldrich took control of her. After you and Tommy chased him into the woods, Juliet ran off too. I was left alone. But Tommy returned shortly after, looking furious and worn out. Next thing I knew, Aldrich was trying to get in my head again, but this time it was different. I could feel his distress. Then, when I opened my eyes, Tommy had already stabbed him ... I saw the life leaving his eyes.’

  Nick couldn’t, and didn’t want to, imagine what Tom had seen. But he remembered how Aldrich had gone running in manic tears after Nick had taunted him about his false god and then whacked him around the head with a branch. That must have been the grief Tom felt.

  ‘So Aldrich might have used his ability on Tommy to make him do it?’ Nick asked.

  ‘He could have. I don’t know for certain, because after you dropped us home earlier, Tommy gloated about it. I had to remind him not to let Dad overhear. But I think it’s just his way of coping.’

  ‘Do you think he did it?’

  Tom huffed in what seemed like wry amusement. ‘I honestly don’t know. But either way, I’m glad Aldrich’s dead. He deserved to die for what he did to Mum.’

  Not just to Mum; he ruined more lives than you can imagine. ‘I’m just glad we know the truth now. I’m nervous about telling Dad, though.’ He sighed. ‘But hopefully, as long as Ryan does what he promised, we’ll be fine.’

  ‘Yeah, about that … I know I didn’t say anything at the time, but I feel really uneasy that you lot agreed to let a stranger cover up for us. Will he adequately destroy the evidence? As grim as it would have been, we should have done it ourselves. Do you actually think we can trust him?’